To Thine Own Self
by Tirajm
Summary: Jim and Spock are kidnapped by a group of aliens and used as test subjects for an experiment that gives them a new outlook on the other's perspective. Can they escape? Rated for frequent strong language. Contains slash.
1. Chapter 1

Jim Kirk awoke to the worst headache he had ever experienced. It felt like someone had taken an axe to his skull. He sat up in the bed, trying to remember what had happened.

There'd been that diplomatic mission on Adarak IV, him and Spock, and there'd been some sort of ceremonial dinner... They'd had to drink something, wine or some shit, and it'd tasted weird, and then... His memory ended abruptly. Did he have an allergic reaction to it or something? That would suck, if he fainted at a state dinner in front of everyone. Or... There'd been that weird taste, almost chemical or something. And now he was in some random place he'd never seen before, and he had a headache, and, dammit, this better not be an abduction, because if Bones heard he gotten himself fucking abducted by aliens he would never hear the end of it.

Jim blinked blearily, trying to make out his surroundings. It was dark and dingy, outfitted like an ancient hotel room. Creaky bed, banged-up nightstand, too-dim light, and a doorway that looked like it led to a bathroom; he could just dimly make out a mirror. There was another door, too, though it didn't really fit in; it was much more high tech. It also had a force field blocking it. He opened a drawer on the nightstand, feeling it over, but he found nothing except a surprisingly sharp stray nail.

Ouch. He'd pricked his finger (apparently the room also had sharp edges). A single drop of blood was welling up, and he licked it off thoughtlessly. He knew immediately something was wrong. The taste of the blood was strange, yet somehow familiar. Like old pennies or something. Pennies. _Copper_.

He felt a rush of panic for a second, but he pushed it aside. Getting worked up wouldn't do any good. Instead he strode purposefully over to the bathroom, though he thought he already knew what he would see. It still didn't prepare him for the shock of seeing a young Vulcan looking back at him. He closed his eyes, hard, as if he could wish away the image, but he knew it wouldn't work. When it didn't, he leaned closer, trying to make out his new features.

The eyebrows were the most dramatic change, he decided. They distorted the rest of his features, gave a new twist to all his expressions, a fact he certainly did not come to know because he spent a good half hour making faces in the mirror. His eyes had changed, too, to a deep, unsettling brown, which was weird, because he'd _seen _blue-eyed Vulcans before. The ears are almost the most subtle of changes, tucked away on the side of his head. It was funny, that the Vulcans' most defining trait is the least obvious, and he almost wanted to laugh, but for some reason, it didn't feel right.

It was a few hours after that when one of his captors arrived, carrying a bowl of food. Jim toyed with the idea of trying a nerve pinch, but since all he knew was that it was aimed at a region best described as "neckish," he doubted his odds would be very good. A hundred to one? A thousand to one? He forced himself not to play with numbers, to focus on the Adaran.

"I want to see Spock," he insisted. His voice sounded a little different, too; tighter, more controlled. He certainly didn't sound as pissed off as he felt.

The Adaran just stared at him, as if a lab rat had started talking. "Why do you wish this?" he asked at last in heavily-accented Standard.

"Spock is my first officer; it is my duty to ensure that he's alright," Jim replied easily, though he had to wonder where 'ensure' came from.

The Adaran looked nervous, and leaving the food on the table, pulled out a communicator. He jabbered in his native tongue on it for a few minutes, while Jim examined the bowl. Plomeek soup. Hilarious. "All right," the Adaran said at last. "You may see your friend." There was something unpleasant about his grin.

Jim was handcuffed and dragged down an equally dreary hallway. After five minutes, he was shoved into another room, almost identical to his. A silent figure sat on the bed, head down. "Spock?" he said aloud. "You OK?"

"I am physically unhurt, if that is the meaning of your overly vague inquiry," replied Spock. There was a slight quaver to his voice, an unfamiliar unsteadiness. He did not look up.

"Did they, um, do you, too?"

"Yes. I would have expected you to infer that based on your own changes and my rather less controlled behavior." It was almost enough to make Jim laugh, that anyone can speak so clinically and not consider themselves controlled, but once again, he didn't feel the urge.

"Let me have a look at least, you know, make sure you're okay."

"That is unnecessary," Spock replied, still not looking at him.

"Spock, let me see you, and that's a goddamned order," snapped Jim. Spock looked up sharply, and their eyes met. _Fuck, _thought Jim. He really was human – straight, flat eyebrows, normal, blunt ears, and a pair of bright blue eyes that looked all too familiar. There were other changes, too, though, more subtle ones, like the way his lips moved sometimes, or the warm pink tones Jim hadn't even noticed weren't there before. They spent a few moments just staring each other, taking in all the differences.

"I have been formulating a theory, Captain," Spock said, breaking the silence at last, those blue eyes that should have been Jim's watching him carefully. "I have observed that I feel anxious, uncomfortable, ashamed…" He broke off.

"It's fine. It's totally natural for you to feel weird, I mean, those aliens fucking abducted us, and they screwed up your body which is probably like, rape, or something, and plus you've probably got a complex about it or some shit - "

Spock shook his head, almost fiercely. "You do not understand my meaning. I _feel_. Captain, I do not wish to intrude on you, but I must ask – how do you feel?"

It took Jim a few seconds to realize he had no answer to that question.


	2. Chapter 2

_It should be noted for the benefit of readers who are only familiar with the movie that, while the Adarans are a personal invention, the Cardassians are not, and as of Deep Space 9, have developed a method to disguise Cardassian spies as Bajorans, a completely different species._

* * *

"Sorry, Spock," said Jim, "but I still think that's total bullshit. Just because I magically grew a pair of pointy ears does not mean that I've turned into a computer. Don't Vulcans have to train to be so fucking logical for years?" He was swearing more than he needed to, but it helped convinced him that he was still himself, that he hadn't started turning into Spock. On this same principle, he kept ruffling his hair (thankfully, still blond and unruly), though that was at least partially because it felt really, really good on his hands.

Spock was staring at him with a slightly shocked expression. "You do realize that Vulcans have, ah, abnormally sensitive hands, do you not?"

"I guess you guys must… oh." Spock was wearing a more obvious version of that look he had whenever Gaila started talking about whatever she'd done last night in the rec room. "You mean _that_ kind of sensitive?" It did feel _really_ good. He started rubbing the tips of his ears, mostly out of a scientific curiosity about what Spock would do next.

Spock was stubborn and thorough, and not going to be dissuaded, especially by Jim being vulgar. "That point is not relevant to our discussion. You must admit that your own behavior has been far more emotionally restrained. You have not shouted or thrown things, and your swearing feels markedly forced."

"Maybe it's just that I'm not as worked up as you," Jim returned coolly. "Maybe you're feeling a little emotionally compromised? Again?" It was a low blow, and he knew it, but he was starting to feel this weird, irritated feeling.

He still wasn't expecting Spock's expression, like a house had fallen on him. "Perhaps you are right," he said bitterly, and looked away. "Perhaps I am simply suffering from a psychosomatic effect, and am transferring the same effect onto your behavior."

"Well, whatever, let's just stop with all the angsting. It's totally a waste of time that could be better spent plotting our daring escape."

"Do you have any suggestions on that topic?" Spock asked, professional again.

"Not really. If we teamed up, we might be able to overpower the next guy who comes in. The Adarans aren't that strong, right?"

"No… however, even if that was accomplished, there would still remain an entire building for us to maneuver through, none of which we have seen."

Jim wanted to suggest grabbing a pair of phasers and fighting their way through, but there was no chance of that working. They'd just get caught and thrown back in. "Alright, so we need to do some recon first. Too bad there are bathrooms in the cells… Maybe I could pretend to be sick?"

"Perhaps. I believe there is some meat in the soup they gave me, which I have not eaten. Perhaps if you claimed you had accidentally consumed some, they would take you to the hospital wing."

"See, I do have good ideas sometimes!"

"Or it is equally likely they will simply kill you, and dissect the body. They may be planning to do so already."

"You're a very cheerful person, Mr. Spock. I just wanted to let you know."

Spock's repartee was prevented, with the return of the Adarans. There were two big ones, both armed with phasers, and a third that was apparently got up as some sort of doctor.

"Come along now," the doctor said, in the kind of voice that suggested he was seconds away from an evil laugh. "We have a little transmission we need you to help us with." Jim and Spock didn't resist as they were cuffed, and led down the hallway with the guards and the doctor.

They were half-dragged through endless, winding corridors; Jim tried to compose a map in his head, and guessed Spock was doing the same. Finally, they ended up in a large room that could best be described as 'shadowy.' There were more big guards, and a large view screen that was completely dark.

As they watched, it flickered to life, and the shadowed – of course – face of some alien appeared. "Dr. Twalek," he said coldly. "I hope you have positive results for me?"

* * *

Scotty hated being in charge of the ship. That was one of the specific perks of Engineering. But no, they happened to have the one captain who liked running off on away missions, and dragging his first officer with him. And now the two had been missing for twenty-four hours with no contact (again), and Scotty was in charge of the ship (again).

After the disappearance, all communication from Adarak had mysteriously cut off. They tried to make contact, but no one would respond. Uhura, Gaila, and Chekov had been playing with the signal for hours, with no result, until finally, someone established a massive communication link. Uhura snapped it up in a second, eagerly decoding it. A look of horror passed over her face. "Oh, _shit_," she muttered.

"Wha's wrong, Lieutenant?" he asked worriedly. Uhura wasn't much inclined to swear on duty, especially if the Captain wasn't there.

"I… I don't know how to explain it," she said. "You'd better come and see what we've got."

Scotty groaned. He'd heard that line many times before – bloody hell, he'd _said_ it many times before – and it never meant anything good. "Make sure ye get a trace onnit, a'leas'," he said.

"Oh, I'm on that," replied Gaila, furiously tapping the screen. Scotty got up to view the transmission, and his mouth fell open in horror.

* * *

Jim had no idea who the hell this alien was, but he definitely intimidated Dr. Twalek. The Adaran gone from a stereotypical mad scientist to whining sycophant in seconds. "Oh yes, the experiment, quite a success," he near-stammered. "I think you'll be very pleased with the results, Gul." So the strange alien was a Cardassian? Jim filed the information away for later.

"You _moron_," hissed the Gul. "Do you want the scum to know who I am?"

"No need to worry, we'll kill them once the experiment is finished," Dr. Twalek said flippantly, seeming to have regained some of his confidence. He motioned for the guards to shove them to the front, where they would be easily visible. Jim was surprised to see Spock glaring at them openly. "You might recognize some features, I think," he added smugly.

"I'll be damned," said the Gul. "Is that…?"

"Captain Kirk and Commander Spock of the Enterprise. It was little short of a miracle that we managed to get them, but luckily the Marquet owes me a favor or two, and they didn't really want that mining commission anyways."

"Well, shit, that explains their bargaining techniques," interrupted Jim. "And I just thought he was being a dick."

Both ends of the conversation gaped at him, and Spock was – smiling? Seriously? It must have been a trick of the light. "He does not appear altered," said the Gul after a moment. "He certainly does not act like a Vulcan. How can I be sure that you did not simply perform a little plastic surgery on both men and call it a day? It would not be the first time you presented me with embarrassingly shoddy workmanship."

Dr. Twalek colored, which in his case meant he turned an interesting purplish color. "I can assure that they have, in fact, had their species altered. The captain is simply being defiant. If you would allow me to demonstrate…" He pulled out a kit of scalpels, selected on and made a short, quick cut on each man's palm. The Gul watched the blood without much conviction.

"I hope you will send me some tricorder readings, because dramatic as your 'evidence' has been, I have not found it terribly reliable in the past. Let us hope this has changed. It does seem that the physical change has been executed successfully. Have you fulfilled the second part of the request?"

Dr. Twalek's confidence disappeared. "Ah, ah, well, we still need to do a bit of work on the memory implantation. We didn't think we were at a point where it could be attempted with these subjects. However, we did manage to realign their mental pathways. It's not enough to effect their memories, or even their personalities, it seems, but it still should alter their way of thinking significantly." For some reason, all Jim could think was, _Damn, Spock was right_, which was totally unfair because now Spock would be all smug, and say 'I told you so,' and that was bad enough when he was trying to pretend that Vulcans didn't actually feel emotions such as smugness.

"Interesting," the Gul said drily. "Have one of your men kick the Vulcan."

It came as a bit of a shock to Jim to realize that 'the Vulcan' referred to him, so he wasn't suspecting the hard knee he got in the stomach. If he'd caught on before, he might have faked a reaction, but instead he remained expressionless, the only sign a momentary unsteadiness, and then it was too late to fake anything. He tried a pain-wracked grimace, but the Gul merely laughed.

"You are a tricky one, little captain," he remarked. "Not, I think, tricky enough, though. And now, the human one, if you please."

Spock got kicked even harder, and in a decidedly more sensitive locale. Jim could see him trying to hold back a reaction, but his face contorted in pain. The guards laughed like it's the funniest thing they'd ever seen, and Jim objectively and logically decided that once they got out of here, which they were going to do once he finished his awesome escape plan, he was going to blow the place up, or possibly set it on fire.

"_Very_ interesting," said the Gul. "Well, I believe I have seen all that you have to offer. End transmission." And with that, the view screen was dark again, and Jim and Spock were dragged back into their cells, separated again.


	3. Chapter 3

It took a lot more convincing to get out of the room this time, made harder by the fact that Jim kept second-guessing his own story. Finally, he forced himself to remember that the Adarans didn't know as much about Vulcan biology as he did, and that if they were some Cardassian douche's pet experiment, it wouldn't make sense for them to risk endangering his health. So he plied the first Adaran who brought him a meal with a surprisingly convincing story of how he'd been suffering from telepathic flashes off of everything, and needed Spock to teach him how to ward his mind. When he actually did get there, it only took a little less effort to convince Spock that, no, he was not getting telepathic flashes, he had never had a telepathic flash in his life, and he wouldn't know one if it jumped up and bit him in the cerebral cortex.

"Seriously, aren't you the real Vulcan here? Or is that actually a thing, and you're all just too big of tightasses to tell people about it?" he said at last. It was funny how calm he sounded, or it would be if it wasn't so creepy.

"You are not, in fact, an actual Vulcan," replied Spock. "There is no telling how the sudden reception of psychic abilities will affect a species who has never experienced them before. However," he added, "I shall accept your insistence."

_Are you still going to pretend to be a walking computer, or will you eventually loosen up?_, thought Jim, but instead said, "So, Spock, you've got an update on our status other than totally screwed?"

"Perhaps. It appears as though our termination has not yet been planned, which is always a relief to discover. I have committed the path to memory, as I hope you have. If we could affect an escape, it might be possible to contact the Enterprise."

There was a lull in the conversation. "You know, you can say I told you so if you want to," Jim said at last. "I know you're going to work it into the conversation somehow."

"I had not planned to; however, if you would like me to, I suppose it would be possible." Oh god, was Spock actually teasing him? Like, actually teasing him, not intentional literalism or derisive sarcasm. It was his tone of voice – it was the fact that he actually _had _a tone of voice. It was insane.

For some reason, Jim couldn't help slightly disapproving of it.

"I enjoyed your remarks concerning the trade negotiations," Spock added, to Jim's continued shock. "They were accurate, if unnecessarily crude in their wording, and served your secondary purposes exceedingly well."

"Which were...?"

"To cast doubt as to the nature of the transformation, and to draw Dr. Twalek back onto a useful subject for reconnaissance."

_Those are both very logical reasons for saying that_, Jim thought, _and it's too bad I didn't think of them when I said it_. "So, do you have a plan, then? For getting there in the first place? And what we're going to do afterwards?"

"You do not?" He sounded genuinely surprised.

"Not a logic – not one that would actually work."

"Well, perhaps a little improvisation will be necessary, then." Spock sounded disapproving, which was a refreshingly normal reaction in this crazy nightmare.

"Could you show me how the Nerve Pinch works?" asked Jim. "It would be a useful tool, especially since we're currently unarmed."

Spock pursed his lips. "I suppose… it is a technique which requires greater precision and strength than most humans are capable of. You, however, are not currently human, and therefore my instructions are more likely to bear fruit." They stood facing each other, as Spock ever so carefully placed his fingers on Jim's shoulder. "That is the correct placement. You are to imitate it as close as you possibly can."

To Jim's surprise, it wasn't all that hard. He could feel the spots on his neck where the tiniest bit of pressure is being applied, and he could feel the exact spot on Spock as well. And once again, those extremely sensitive Vulcan fingers gave him a startling reaction. It felt _good_, brushing his fingers against another person. _Maybe that's why they're so uptight about sex_, he thought, _or else they'd be turned on all the time_. "Am I doing it right?" he breathed to Spock.

"A few millimeters out from my neck," Spock replied, and there was a bit of catch to his voice. Jim moved a little closer, a stray strand of Spock's hair brushing against those ears that were and weren't his. It felt amazing, and he leaned his head a little closer to Spock's without really thinking about it. He shifted his fingers slowly, enjoying the movement, and pulled back just a little, looking Spock straight in the eyes, foreheads nearly touching. "Like that, then?"

Spock looked almost shaken. "Exactly. Now, gently apply an even amount of pressure."

In retrospect, Jim realized that Spock had probably meant apply the pressure with his _fingers_.

The kiss lasted for longer than Jim had meant it to, though whether he'd even meant to kiss him in the first place was debatable. Part of this was the incredible discovery that _Spock was kissing him back_, which so distracted him that he lost track of time completely. When they finally did disengage, Jim's fingers were still in exactly the right spot. "Now do I apply the pressure?" he asked. Somehow, it came out sounding like an actual question.

"I believe you have mastered the basics," Spock said rather heavily. "Is there anything else you would like me to teach you?"

"I have always been curious how that mind-meld thing works," Jim replied, and raised his hand in what he thought was a pretty blatant attempt to reengage their previous activity, but apparently Spock didn't get it, because he raised his own hand, intertwining their fingers. It was almost better than kissing, and was that a mischievous smile on Spock's face? Of course, he would have known that.

For a while they stood there, hand in hand, and it really was better than kissing.


End file.
